


Tell Me We're Just Brothers

by huntthewicked



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, Bruises, Confused Dean, Drinking, Finally tells him how he feels, I Tried, Jealous Sam, Kissing, M/M, No link to storyline, Possessive Sam, Sam is Deansexual, Sass, Season/Series 01, Sex, Wincest - Freeform, aren't we all, argument in a bar, not quite smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntthewicked/pseuds/huntthewicked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam hates it when Dean insists on going to bars after hunts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam hates it when Dean insists on going to bars after hunts. Fresh from the kill and buzzing on adrenaline, Dean's favourite one last hook up before they leave town.

Dean thinks it's because Sam's a prude, celibate for some unknown reason. It's been building for a while, Dean grabbing his leather jacket- second skin- and playfully knocking Sam's shoulder, "Last chance to get some Sammy"

And the light in his eyes and a promise of a drink on him is the only reason Sam keeps folding and joining him.

"C'mon" Dean grins and boosts himself out the Impala, smelling of fresh cologne and excited testosterone.

Sam huffs when Dean starts checking out a girl drinking a cocktail, long legs wrapped around the barstool, and Dean automatically goes on the offence. 

"Dude, just because your dick makes like a used floppy disk and doesn't get much action, doesn't mean I have to suffer" Dean shoots his brother a look, a give me your best come back but it won't beat mine look.

"Was that a computer reference?" Sam says instead, mocking a shocked, impressed reaction. Leaning back, eyes wide. So wide he thinks Dean must be able to read what he's thinking about in the dark hazy pupils.

That he's thinking about how Dean deserves so much better. Deserves someone like Sam who will always be there for him and loves him unconditionally no matter how many times they argue or threaten to leave.

"You know it. Bitch" He adds the insult as an after thought and raises his beer to his lips.

Sam's mesmerised by his neck, the curve and movement as he swallows the alcohol and slams the empty bottle down on the chipped wood. How he wants to be that bottle. _Wow, reaching jealousy over inanimate objects_. Dean's mouth is wet, lips parted at he stares shamelessly at the blondes ass and how her boobs are practically falling out of her push up bra.

Then again, he only deserves Sam. And the growing attraction in his gut and his pants proves how much Sam supports that idea.  
Sam sighs, looks to his hands and pushes them against the unmoving table so his arms strain and he can focus on that instead of the lust in Dean's face which is starting to piss him off. The only person Dean should be lusting after is him.

"Since you're clearly gagging for it I'll see you back at the motel" Sam bites, standing to full height and not daring to look at Dean because he's angry goddamnit and his brother's too pretty to be annoyed at.

"Jesus, what's crawled up your ass and died" Dean replies, completely focussed on Sam and the potential fight brewing under the surface of his skin. Sam will always deny that it gives him a thrill to see his brother all riled up over something he says. He has that power and it makes him giddy with what he must mean to Dean.

Just doesn't mean enough.

"Class maybe? Self restraint? See Dean, you don't have to force yourself on every girl you meet" Sam turns to leave and gets caught by his brothers hand gripping the flannel over his arm.

"Seriously, the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean shakes his head in disbelief and narrows his eyes, this is one fight he will never understand.

It's like every time they go out Sam has to say a stupid comment or leave before he finishes his lukewarm beer and Dean is getting tired of it. Having to defend himself and prove he isn't some kind of sexual predator that he just has needs.

Sam has research and knowledge, Dean has getting laid. It's the only thing he's good at. For.

"Forget it, I'm fine" Sam's defeated by the wreck he's created, Dean confused at his outburst and irritated by how common it happens.

"Don't lie to me Sammy" He pleads, twisting his voice into a mess that Sam just has to clean up.

Sam bites the inside of his lower lip and winces slightly at the thought of telling Dean how he feels. How disappointed and disgusted he would be.

Rather then admitting he's been harbouring a huge crush on his older brother, Sam pulls his arm out of his brothers grasp and storms out of the bar, the spot Dean had been holding still crumpled in the ghost of where his hand had been.

Sam kicks the trash can resting near the door and smiles satisfied when a large thump vibrates through the metal walls.

It's cool outside, the wind pushes past Sam and reminds him of the direction to the motel, their room. He unconsciously starts walking faster at the thought of being able to smell Dean in his bed and his clothes in complete privacy.

But one trailing thought about Dean's face in between yet another girls thighs makes him stop cold.

What has he done? It's not natural to think of his sibling this way but when you hunt the supernatural daily it's difficult to determine what's socially acceptable and normal.

He scuffs the pavement like a petulant child and turns the corner to the motel. It's the carbon copy of every other dingy place they've stayed at and the missing element of home is the Impala which rests immobile in the bar's parking lot.

Which is where Dean is probably leading the girl to now, long lashes and wavy hair. She's going to sit in his seat, look out his window and kiss his Dean.

Jealousy tears Sam's gut to shreds, turns him into a envious mess of emotion and loss of control.

Sam barely gets the key in the lock before he's reacting, screaming silently into his clenched fist. Imagining Dean's bare back as he grinds into her, her moaning and whispering his name.

God it hurts.

No one ever tells you how much these things hurt.

It's not poetic like a song or cute like a poem. It fucking kills and Sam hates that this is inside him, capable of reducing him to this little.

"No" Sam mutters, grabs his jacket and heads out, back to the bar. Walking at this pace takes half the time it took him to walk the other way and he's staring at the Impala, pushing open the swing door, scanning the room for Dean.

He's leaning against the wall talking to a dark haired man, tall like Sam and broad shoulders. Dean is smiling seductively, lips curled up at the ends and he's consciously getting closer. The other guy's brown eyes darken, he's ducking his head slowly and whispering something into Dean's ear.

If Dean wasn't totally straight Sam would say this was a preposition. The bit before the hook up. The meeting. The part you tell your kids about, this is how your parents met.

Jesus Christ, in 2.0 seconds Dean's gone from possibly bisexual to a parent.

He needs to get a grip. Remember whatever the hell he was practically sprinting to the bar to do, before he saw the guy who looks a little like Sam talking to his brother. Is talking the right word? Openly flirting.

Another stab hits him full force in the stomach and he's watching as the guy palms Dean's arm and slides it around to his back and they're both turning to leave and _shit, shit, shit._

Sam hurriedly retreats and stands in the shadow of the overhanging roof. Dean stumbles onto the curb completely oblivious to Sam's seething prescience.

The Sam look a like grins looking smug at his prey and says,

"Your place or mine"

It's cliché, disgustingly so and any other time Dean would be laughing with Sam about how _they need to come up with better lines._

 

But this time, in real life time, Dean laughs deep and husky and sexy as all hell and leans into the guys body heat like it's the best damn sentence he's heard in his life.  
"Who says we have to do either?" Dean winks and looks pointedly to the Impala with raised eyebrows. The guy catches on quick and so does Sam.

No, this is too fucking far. He can't stomach the thought of another person touching what's his let alone doing it in the one place that's home.

Can't imagine sitting there tomorrow knowing what's happened the night before, no fucking way.

Sam steps out of the shadows and pulls Dean away from the creep. Who looks like him. Is that hope in Sam's throat?

"Get lost" He growls at the stranger who puts his hands up in surrender and backs into the bar, muttering jackass under his breath.

"Sammy? The hell?" Sam doesn't let him finish complaining because he's in the middle of a surge of confidence and he can't let it pass. Because the guy looked like him because Dean wants to fuck him right? Right.

Dean is incredible in this light. Yellow streetlights illuminating his face and the colour spilling from the closed windows emphasising every single line and sharp edge that make Dean the most beautiful person Sam has ever seen.

"I hate seeing you like that with other people" Sam gives an explanation because he owes him that much.

"No shit. But I gotta" Dean groans like he can't say what he wants to say and that's all the explaining Sam needs before he crooks his head and presses his lips against his brothers.

They're still moist from the beer and soft and open under him as Dean moans and winds his fingers into Sam's dark curls.

Sam really doesn't want to let go but he's holding onto Dean so tightly that he thinks he might break him.

Dean looks alive with anticipation, desire coursing through him at Sam's touch and taste.

"Been wanting to do that for a long time"

Dean nods in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things of a sexual nature and a possessive Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure about doing a second part but here you are :)

Dean's pressed up against the motel door, moaning as Sam attacks his neck with his mouth. He's supposed to be unlocking the door but at the moment they're out in the open for anyone to see.

Putting on an exhibitionist porn show isn't one of Sam's registered kinks but he's too damn wired to care, hands gripping Dean's hips as he pushes him into the door and against his crotch at the same time.

Finally it's open and Dean grabs Sam's hair, pulling him back so hard they all but fall through the open space. He rips off his jacket, kissing Sam the entire time. It's fast, a slick slide of tongue and a hint of teeth that pull at Sam's bottom lip, beg for skin to be marked.

"Never done this" Sam mutters as he reaches for Dean's flannel, yanking off the second layer like it personally offends him.

"Aww, I got the honour of poppin your cherry?" Dean can't resist the taunting remark, smirking and shimming out of the shirt when Sam tries desperately to get his arms out of it.

"My _ass_ cherry" Sam growls and nips at Dean's shoulder through the fabric.

It was supposed to be a stupid joke but the thought that Dean is going to be the one to fuck his brother, he gets to be in that perfect round ass, it drives him on even more.

"I have" He says comfortingly, not to brag because his one night stands aren't all something he's proud of.

"You have?" Sam stops to ask him, mouth wide open and Dean can see his spit glistening on Sam's lips.

"Yeah" He replies like it's obvious and something clicks in Sam because that guy at the bar wasn't going to be the first time.

But Dean has experience in this. With other people.

"Don't want anyone else fucking you like that" Sam claims his lips and it's harder then before, he's painting bruises into Dean's hips and leading them backwards until Dean falls onto Sam's double.

Dean's hard, rubbing against his thigh and his leg tucks around Sam's, propelling him sideways so Dean is on top like the same manoeuvre Sam acted out when he broke into his apartment back at Stanford. He's so fucking glad he didn't chicken out of bringing Sam into this.

"Too many clothes, why do we wear so many frikkin clothes" They make fast work of the rest of it, jeans and shirts thrown around the room until they're in nothing, completely naked. Neither of them self conscious about it because they've seen it all before. 

Just, this time it's different because Sam never realised how well his hand fit on Dean's hipbone before and how perfectly Dean looked on top of him.

Dean's straddling Sam, legs on either side of his waist and his hand is trailing down Sam's chest into his boxers when he stops him. Tugs on his arm so it falls next to Sam's head and he's inches away from his mouth.

"Want you in me" He stares Dean in the eye, lusting and honest and full of _want_. 

"Oh god" Dean can't resist grinding his hips slowly into Sam's and the friction alone is enough to drive him insane.

When they fuck it's hard and vicious, Dean thrusting his hips quickly and Sam biting into his collarbone and his neck determined to leave bruises so everyone knows he's his.

Sam leaves scratches all down his brother's back that he only notices in the morning, sunlight filtering through the cheap nylon curtains and bouncing off Dean's bare back. Because his brother has a weird habit of sleeping face down. 

There's the unmistakable stench of sex in the air and the cleaner is going to hate the hell they unleashed on the sheets on Sam's bed, swapping to Dean's when the wet spots forced them away from sleep.

Dean groans and shifts closer to his brother, leg pushing further between Sam's. This should be weird but it's not. Dean used to crawl into his bed and hold him close when he was younger and as he grew; when he had nightmares.

Looking back on it now, Sam has no idea why they stopped.

Sam's fingers ghost over Dean's naked skin, his back facing up and hair mussed from the night before. Dean moans in his sleep and he can't help it, Sam presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and he smirks when his brother very slowly raises his eyelids.

"Sammy" He whispers, closing his eyes again and a smile spreads across his face as he remembers what happened. Less then 24 hours and it amazes Sam that he still wanted it as much as him.

He kisses his cheek, his jaw and his fingers pull the covers down and over the rise of Dean's ass. His jaw drops when he notices the purple finger marks staining the sensitive skin on his ass, recalls his hands being there and it makes him giddy with excitement and desire. 

"Sammystopit" Dean mutters and catches his brothers hand with those hunter reflexes.

"Wake up" Sam says, exasperated because as much as he loves watching his brother sleep which no, is not creepy, he's had over 20 years of it.  
"Nu-uh" He doesn't have to, in the grand scheme of things. They've finished the hunt, no loose strings so hypothetically they could stay sleeping forever.

Sam drags his aching, worn body to the shower and relaxes as the hot water falls over his shoulder. The space between his legs is throbbing under the temperature, Dean had been rough and now he was paying for it. 

Bruises litter his hips and neck, the water pressure causes him to wince slightly but it's all worth it. Knowing that he could climb back onto that bed and take anything he wants, get everything he wants.

Sam throws on a plaid shirt and jeans, grabs his laptop and sits by the window searching through the missing persons reports.

His brother's passed out on the bed still, mouth hanging open.

After a while he finds a case, it'll be a 2 day journey and the mysterious deaths look like a lot of research but he's looking forward to it. As damaged as that sounds.

 

*****

 

"Freakin hate wearing these" Dean grumbles, pulling the tie away from his neck anxiously.

Sam bites his lip in agitation, offers his hands as a solution and fixes the mess Dean has created. It's just like every other time, Dean getting pissy about wearing a suit and Sam fixing it. Except this time, when it's sorted Sam kisses him, on the verge of getting his suit all ruined again from wondering hands.

"You look hot" Sam murmurs into his bitten-red lips.

"You're just sayin that to get in my pants" Dean complains but it falls short because he's smiling

Dean switches off the car engine and they get out, the last lines of Motorhead fading as the brothers walk up to the crime scene.

Usually the deaths and murders don't bother him but this girl has blonde hair, she's wearing a white dress and looks almost identically like Jess. His breath catches in his throat and his eyes are darting everywhere, everything suddenly too much but Dean's hand finds his and he's rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"Not her Sammy. It's okay" He removes his hand and they approach the sheriff, give the classic duo talk that tells them all the information they need.

Usually Dean would say a word or two in support, all of it stilted and awkward because he hates having _feelings_ talks but this time around he touches him to show he's there and it's another reminder of how their relationship has changed.

It's a quick case, a creep with a penchant for blonde women died a year ago and he returned to get some revenge. 

When it's over Dean drags them to the roadhouse they saw coming into town.

He's giving Sam the same grin, same gentle jostling and bounce in his step as he pushes the door wide open. It's his element, the soft click of pool balls in the corner and the stale smell of old wood and sticky beer.

"C'mon" Dean hits his arm and leads them to a booth near the pool table. He chucks his jacket on the empty chair and takes off for the four beers that have become standard protocol. Two now and two waiting. These days it takes a lot for them to get pass-out black-out drunk. It takes a lot to get that warm buzz.

Sam's been worrying his lip ever since they pulled up to this place, nervous that maybe he wasn't enough for Dean and that's why they find themselves back in the same situation.

Except he's not giving anyone the eyes aside from the pool table.

"Think we can take em?" Dean raises his eyebrows towards the three stumbling guys pushing the balls around the table, waving the cue around so clearly hammered.

"I think anyone could take them" Sam observes, slightly pissy because this is throwing them out, eyeing the way they're struggling to hit anything pegs them as an easy kill.

"We need it" Dean mutters, lack of money always something to be ashamed of.

They polish off the first beer and are half way through the second when Dean squeezes Sam's thigh in an act he hasn't done before, presses a kiss to the sensitive skin behind his ear that is masked by the dark lighting of the place and rises, staggering as he bumps into one of the men.

"Canijoin" He slurs, beer bottle in his hand acting as a prop.

They nod and as soon as Dean pulls his wallet out it's like they collectively sober up at the sight of cash.

He throws a fifty onto the table, they only have another hundred in change so they're relying on this to get them through another few rooms and hot meals.

Sam's just realised this. Getting laid isn't the only thing that gives him that grinning energy, getting paid is. Irrational insecurity telling him it's the end of them when really it's just the daily grind.

It's been a game and a half later and Sam's coming up, saying that maybe Dean should give it a rest. He's already slammed all his money on the table but none of his actions make Sam worried. Look desperate, play the part and they'll start betting more and more.  
Dean starts pocketing all the balls and it isn't a second later and they're leaving, a cold hard 400 dollars in Dean's back pocket.

Sam has no idea why he was so nervous in the first place because as soon as they hit an empty stretch of road Dean's pulling over and his hand is down Sam's pants.

If this is how it's gonna be from now on, he doesn't _hate_ the idea of going to bars.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think, I live on comments and love :)


End file.
